Family
by mvdiva
Summary: Family and home. What does home mean, and how far will Destiny lead you off the path before allowing you to return?


_My apologies for all the glaring timespan errors in this story. I'm aware that Lowbacca was only a teenager (at least, in human terms) when Luke began the Academy (and the fact that the twins aren't even born yet), but for my purposes I made him a good deal older. Also, the happenings with Chewie and his family in this story probably differ quite a bit from the canon world, so you'll have to just play along for a little while. Thanks for reading._

Family

He never used to believe in the Force. For his people, the trees and the plants and the wildlife and the land were all they needed. That is, their world was all they needed before the Empire. It had started simply enough with a few humans in white armor, sitting haughtily in their walking machines. He should have known that it was the beginning of the life he had come to know, but youth had a way of hiding one's eyes. In the beginning, he had a home - a lush green growing home, and kin to make it a place to belong. The Empire took his freedom later that day, but they had already taken the thing most important to his people.

One thing had led to another that not-so-particular morning, and he had allowed rage to cloud his sense of self-preservation. The beloved sister of his childhood and early adult years had been shuffled into bonds without any protest from his family. Their morning meal had been interrupted by the white-clad humans bursting in on some pretentious charge to take his sister, who had been in the peaceful process of suckling her newborn. Her mate voiced only a pathetic whine in protest, taking his offspring from Laashka and watching one last time as she was led off to the human compound, presumably to be sent off-world and never heard from again.

Chewbacca had seen the bowed heads of his parents and sister's mate and stood, lunging forward with one mighty paw to sweep the helmet off the retreating humans. Any real force of violence, and they would have his shaggy head in a not-so-figurative sense.

The human man had turned to face his attacker, face drawn even as he reached for his weapon. He was barely more than a human cub himself, but Chewie took no pity, slapping him to the ground and raising his lip in a triumphant smile as the body made a satisfying thud on impact. His sister cried out as she stumbled and fell hard on her shoulder, shackled arms unable to protect herself as one of the humans stooped to yank one slender arm in an effort to pull her back to her feet. With bowcaster unconsciously drawn and leveled, Chewie shot the shorter creature; aim perfect as the gleaming armor instantly became a smoking molten hole in the human's chest.

Chaos broke free then, his sister shouting at him to stop, even as she was dragged unceremoniously across the bridge by the three remaining humans. His sister's mate Manyaark was running behind him in an instant, his own bowcaster replacing the offspring that had so recently rested there.

The Wookie child they left behind balanced unsteadily on his infant feet in the doorway, watching uncertainly as his father and uncle stormed off through the village in pursuit of the white troops. Chewbacca glanced back once quickly to see the youngling watching wide-eyed before being swept up in his grandmother's arms. He slowed for a moment, glancing again as his mother nuzzled the child once, locking eyes with her son and nodding for him to go. A low grunt of acknowledgment was the last communication he ever had with her.

Once he was had been secured in that headlong plunge into destiny, the Empire had returned to his isolated village to destroy the families of the so-called instigators, leaving nothing but ashes in the trees and a few hidden survivors with an exceptional will to live. He heard once that his infant nephew-child had escaped the violence, but in the years of trafficking with Han, never once had he taken the chance to track down the boy. The child was a member of his past, and it was better to leave it alone. He told himself that time and time again as the years continued on. Never once did he truly believe it.

Briefly once on a routine run to Corellia, he had heard a rumor in a dingy café from a particularly unintelligible drunken human that the boy was still alive and well, and was coming into notice in the Outer Rim as one of the many having a possible tell-tale link to the fragging Force. Despite the danger that this particular gift could bring, it brought hope to his heart, but he had no time to find family. His debt to Han was too deep, and the honor at risk was too much to break. Chewbacca kept that hope locked firmly in his heart over the decades, daring only to bring it out and examine the delicate shred of memory in the rare moments of solitude afforded his criminal lifestyle.

And then one day, they had strolled into a bar, gingerly taking seats and drinks of questionable content to wait for an "old white-haired magician with a load of untraceable cash" as Han explained. Not only had the description been proven accurate within the first ten chronos of their meeting, but the old codger had brought along an entire entourage, namely a few painfully archaic droids and a blond, blue eyed boy, who - while quite obviously not possessing enough hair or height - somehow reminded him of himself in his more impetuous days.

Chewbacca had never believed in the Force of the old faith, or in the existence of any who professed to wield it. And yet...just yet, here he stood in the presence of an aged youth - of his own kind, nonetheless. The child who was not a child anymore bowed his head in obedience to his elder kin. "Uncle." He greeted. Despite the years that had become between them, Chewie found old memories washing over his body - sights and smells and feelings not tied together by any describable bond but yet intricately linked in his mind.

He spread his long, furry arms and his sister's child stepped into his protective embrace. Despite being nearly the same height, the youth had more of a delicate structure - that of his mother rather than the lanky toughness of his dead father. The senior pulled the younger tighter to him, aware of his partner standing ever-ready at his back on the empty landing pad as the human man smiled and slipped an arm around the waist of his delicate, fiery wife soon-to-be thick with child.

This was what he had embarked on so many years ago. The pursuit of family ties had stretched out over many years and great distances. Ever since he had left it, Chewbacca realized he had been yearning for home. It was so simple, and yet such a great realization that he had to blink back the sudden tears that pricked at his large, delicate eyes. Lowbacca growled a request to be released, and his uncle chuffed with laughter and patted the lanky head before pulling back to grip the youth by his forearms. Looking into the eyes of his kin, he understood a bit more of what Luke and Leia's Force had returned to him. This was what it was like to have a home. This was family.


End file.
